Nothing Has Changed All Over Again
by x-HotMess
Summary: Why do we do all the crazy stuff we do? Because there has got to be more to life than just being ordinary. Shane/Caitlyn
1. Pride and Prejudice

We as human beings do crazy shit all the time. We throw ourselves out of airplanes attached to a piece of fabric. We go out and wrangle with bears and tigers and wild beasts and act like we can tame them. We put a variety of substances in our bodies that we _know_ will fuck us up.

Why would we do that to ourselves? Why do we knowingly put ourselves in danger?

Because that adrenalin rush bypasses every single feeling of wellbeing and monotony we hold within ourselves. Because we feel superior to the people who play it safe when we rebel against the norm. Because there's got to be more to life than just being ordinary.

I roll the dime bag between my thumb and forefinger, feeling the tiny grains within it grind together. Mitchie would kill me if she saw this. She'd go all psycho bitch and tell me about how I'm fucking my life up and how she never expected the pressure of fame to get to me and how much I've changed and all sorts of nagging shit. Christ, she's a pain in the ass.

If it's not her telling me what to do, it's my band mates. If it's not them, it's the label. If it's not those suits, it's my god damn publicist.

Shane, you glared at a girl stalking you down the street. You don't appreciate your fans enough.

Shane, you were photographed kissing your girlfriend in a private place. You draw too much attention to your sex life.

Shane, I ran over your dog with my convertible. You should take better care of your pets.

And I just take it. I never stand up for myself. I cower away, lamely fulfilling everyone else's expectations of me. It's like I'm not even allowed to have expectations of myself. I just always have to do what everyone else wants.

That's why I have this small but ridiculously expensive plastic bag in my hand. When I'm high, I feel invincible. It's just me. No one's yelling or whining or rolling their eyes at me. There's nothing I can't do or say or even think. I'm free.

I stretch my legs out across the pine floor and tilt my head back so it rests on my mattress. The lights in my cabin are out, but yet the furnishings glow at me, like they're surrounded by some kind of aura. I take in a deep breath, and I'm consciously aware of my chest expanding. I hold it in so I can feel my skin stretched across my rib cage. I run fingers delicately up and down the thick rungs of my torso, caressing each individual bone.

I know why they call it a cage. Because it's like a bars in a prison cell. You have a prison inside your own body. You can't escape it.

Slowly, I let out my breath, and stare out the window. I can see the moon shining, illuminating the outline of the forest, and glittering across the lake. I chuckle slightly as the glow dances across my dilated pupils, momentarily blinding me and reminding me why I hate the freaking outdoors so much. Why the fuck am I even back at this stupid camp for a second year? Probably some sort of contractual obligation that the record label had fine-printed on Nate, Jason and I. But whatever, I'm alone here in this dingy cabin, and I can do whatever the hell I want.

There's no going back now, anyway.

The door handle rattles and I smirk arrogantly. What an idiot, trying to get into my cabin when it's obvious I'm either sleeping or not here. But my stomach drops when the handle keeps on turning and I realise I've forgotten to lock the door.

I try to stand and run over, to slam the door in the trespasser's face, but the room swirls before me and I fall to my knees. The door swings open and whoever it is delicately shuffles into the room. By this time, I'm on all fours, and I don't have either the strength or co-ordination to lift up my head to see who gets the pleasure of seeing me in this situation.

"Shane?" They spot me as I curl into the fetal position.

I try to say something, but I feel like someone has chucked a fur-ball down my throat. All I can do I gape at floor and mumble out a few incoherent words. They kneel down beside me and place one hand on my forehead, and the other under my chin, tilting my face up to look at them.

"Heeeey" I slur whilst smile inanely.

"Fuck." is all she says.

She stands and turns on the light in my cabin, and I groan as the bright light hits me, covering my face with both my arms and rolling onto my back.

"Cait-lyn!" I whine, emphasising each syllable. "Go awaaaay!"

"Shane, I'm not leaving," Caitlyn says quietly. I hear her lowering herself next to me, and the noise of her crossing her legs reverberates around my brain.

I feel the world tilt as she lifts my head and slides her legs under me, creating a makeshift pillow. Reluctantly, I allow her to pry my arms away from my face and lift up my eyelids, and I know what she's about to see. She's going to look in my eyes and see a guy who's tripping out of his mind, and then she's going to hate me.

"Jesus Christ, Shane." She sighs. I brace myself for what I expect to be a huge and confronting lecture about my irresponsibility and how she's going to tell everyone and it will be a lesson learned. But instead of a prejudicial rant, Caitlyn merely puts her hand on my forehead again.

"You're sweaty." She grumbles.

"No shit, Sherlock." I spit back at her, suddenly angry at her intrusion. If she's not going to chastise me, why the hell is she still here?

I feel the anger building up from my stomach, spreading throughout my veins, like a burning heat. It rises up my chest, fills my lungs, makes my heart pound faster. The fury I'm feeling is clawing its way out of my throat and I want to scream at her. I open my mouth to let my rage take its toll. Suddenly, I'm being frantically turned onto my side, and I feel Caitlyn's fingers slide into my mouth to scrape the heaving vomit out of my airway. Grunting, she helps me to sit up and some how she manages to get me into the vicinity of a toilet.

I don't even realise I'm crying until she's wiping away the tears on the cheek that isn't pressed against the cold porcelain bowl.

"I'm so sorry for doing this to you, Caitlyn," I sob.

"Shh, don't apologize, Shane. It's okay." She whispers kindly.

"No, no it's not!" I cry harder. "Nothing is okay! Everything has gone to shit! And it's never going to change! My life is so fucking predictable, and I hate it!"

"You have a great life, Shane." Caitlyn rubs my back soothingly as I throw up into the toilet once again.

"Yeah, that's what everyone thinks, isn't it? That I'm doing what a lot of dumbass people wish they could, and I should be grateful for all my fucking opportunities. I'm not grateful for any of that shit, they don't know what it's like to be a fucking robot! I'd rather live a thousand moments like this than ever go back to just one that's ordinary." I choke out.

"So how long have you been extraordinary for?" Caitlyn murmurs.

"Only a few times, it's not as if I'm like an addict or anything. Just when crap gets too much to handle, I just like to free myself for a little while." I shrug, looking my balance and slipping off the toilet, smacking my head hard against the bathroom floor. That's the last thing I remember.

* * *

_Finally, I've had actual inspiration for another chapter story. It will only probably just be short though, I read this really good book last week that kind of addresses these same issues, but better, because it was actually published and all. But yeah, if you're into books, read __Breath__ by Tim Winton. He's one of my all-time favourite authors._

_Please __**review**__, and let me know what you think. I know it's a little extreme (okay, a lot), but I find the concept very interesting, I don't know about you._


	2. Les Misérables

When I wake up the next morning, my neck is killing me from sleeping at such an awkward angle. My muscles ache and the side of my head is throbbing where I knocked myself out last night. I try to sit up, but my blood pressure drops and I feel dizzy, so I let my head fall back down.

"Ouch!" My pillow exclaims. What the… pillows don't talk!

My eyes flick open and I see that it wasn't actually my pillow doing the talking. Caitlyn is rubbing the part of her bicep that I had whacked with my head, and for a moment I am confused. Why is she here with me? Why wouldn't she have just left me to go sleep in her own bed and leave the pop-star to deal with his own mistakes, like any normal person would have? While all these questions are running through my head, I notice she is wearing one of my t-shirts and is only in her underwear. And then I realise I'm only in my underwear. Holy shit, please tell me that there is nothing I did with Caitlyn last night while I was wasted.

"Man, you've got a thick skull!" She grins at me when she sees I am awake.

"Caitlyn, what… what are you doing here?" is all I can manage to cough out of my raw throat.

"Oh, wait, here, these might help." She slides her legs out from under my head, and makes her way over to her bag, still in the cabin doorway, where she left it last night.

Wincing, I prop myself up on my elbows and look at her in confusion. Why is she still helping me? I watch her slender legs suspiciously as they crouch down to rummage through her shoulder bag, before standing and making their way into the bathroom.

"Caitlyn, you don't need to do this, you know. I'm fine." I raise my voice as I hear the faucet turn on, and I struggle to sit up, sliding my legs over the sheets so I can at least get my feet on the ground. The sudden pressure on the balls of my feet sends pins and needles up my legs and I don't want to stand up anymore.

"Shane, please, you may be a lot of things, but fine is not one of them." Caitlyn sighed, coming out of the bathroom with a glass of water and two aspirin.

I glare at her out of the corner of my eye as she sits down on the bed next to me. She wordlessly holds out the glass and the pills. I quickly reach out and throw them down my throat, swallowing them without the water, keeping my eyes locked onto hers the whole time. She matches my gaze with the same fierce determination.

Finally, I break the silence. "Why are you wearing my shirt?"

"Well, you kind of got vomit all over our clothes. I figured neither of us wanted to sleep smelling like puke." She shrugs.

"Sorry." I cringe.

"Don't worry, it's not as if you did it on purpose, and I didn't want you to get the wrong impression if you woke up with me lying half naked next to you." She giggles.

"I kind of got that impression anyway." I blush, finally looking away and staring at the ground.

"Shane…" She says softly, reaching out and placing a hand on my shoulder blade.

"What?" I snap. "What do you want from me? Why are you still here?"

"I want to help you." I ignore the fact that Caitlyn sounds like she's on the verge of tears.

"What the fuck makes you think you could possibly help me?" I yell at her, finally standing, but swaying on my feet.

She stands too, and looks up at me venomously. I take a step back as she raises her arm, thinking she's about to hit me. But instead she shows me a thick slit of a scar across her wrist.

"I got so psychotic during withdrawal that I stabbed myself with a pair of scissors." She hisses.

I can't say anything. I can't move. I can barely think. I'm reeling from the shock and I squeeze my eyes shut to try and process what she just said.

She sits down on the bed and turns, revealing a pinkish-purple disfigurement on her hip that was puckered around the edge.

"One time I was so smashed I fell down two flights of stars and impaled myself on a metal pole." She sniffles, her voice losing its edge now. My stomach churns at the thought of something so horrible happening to Caitlyn's fragile, petite body.

Finally my jaw drops and she lifts up my shirt to show my two rectangular red marks on her torso. One was on her left side, just above her waist. The other was above her right breast, the corner hiding in her polka-dot bra, heaving as she took deep, harsh breaths.

"Defibrillator burns. I had to be resuscitated after I collapsed at a party. My heart stopped beating. I was dead." She whispers, the tears finally breaching her eyelids and trickling down her face.

I reach out and rest both of my hands on her shoulders, but she shrugs them off with a sob, lowering the shirt back down and wrapping her arms around herself. I let my arms drop to my sides shamefacedly, but when I saw that her crying wasn't going to let up, I slowly reached out and ran the side of my index finder under her chin, where her tears were collecting and dripping into her lap. Caitlyn flinched at the contact, and didn't move away.

"Why did you do it?" I ask quietly.

"To rebel. Kinda like you. I got so sick of all the crap that kept pouring into my life that I needed to show myself that there was more to life than just life itself. It was an escape from reality. When I went back to school last year, my parents were fighting more than ever, and so I got in with a pretty bad crowd and did some weak stuff, just to see if they would stop tearing at each other's throats to notice if I was different." She bawls.

"And did they?" I whisper, already knowing the answer.

"No." Caitlyn frowns, her tears finally relenting. "By that point, I was already hooked. I went harder, faster, higher every weekend. But the higher you go, the harder you fall, right? My near-death experience was the one thing that gave my parents a wake-up call. They were already separated by then."

She pauses and glances at me for a reaction, but all I can do is stare at her with an open mouth. So she sighs, and continues.

"They stuck me in rehab and told all my friends and family that I had gone to boarding school." Caitlyn shook her head sadly. "They must have visited me like, twice. Then once I was clean, they packed me off to my aunt's farm in Arizona until summer, where they figured they could send me to the place where I wouldn't dare relapse because I loved it too much."

"Camp Rock." I mumble.

"Yeah. That's why I can help you, Shane. I don't want you to go through that." She smiles despondently and takes my hand lightly in hers.

"Oh." I mumble, already ashamed at the way I previously spoke to her. "And you haven't… relapsed?" I ask hesitantly.

"Fuck no. I'm not going to let that crap screw up my life again." Caitlyn is suddenly riled, and tightens her grip on my fingers.

"Well, I won't let it screw up my life. I only use when I really need it." I nod, hoping to reassure her.

"How long until you need it every week, Shane, every day? How long until you get so miserable in your reality that you need to escape from it all the time?" Caitlyn's voice trembles.

"That's not going to happen." I declare, prying my hand from hers and walking over to my wardrobe, pulling out a pair of jeans and sliding them up my legs.

"Fine." She sighs, standing up from my bed and going over to pick up her bag.

"I put our clothes in the laundry, they should be washed and vomit-free by this afternoon." She sneers as she turns to leave.

Suddenly, I realise something. She's still in nothing but her underwear and my t-shirt. "Wait, Caitlyn, what if someone sees you leaving my cabin like that?"

"So what if they do? Who cares?" She shrugs, peering through the mesh of my door.

I don't have an answer to that. She obviously doesn't care. So why should I?

"Not me!" I grin at her.

Let whoever sees her think what they want, because

I

Don't

Care!

And right out of the blue, I can not stop smiling. Caitlyn sees the elated expression on my face and gives me a weird look.

"If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me." She says grimly, before pushing through my cabin door and disappearing into the fresh morning light.

* * *

_**Reviews** help me sleep at night, plus I will give you candy!_


	3. Catch 22

"Oh my gosh, you will never believe what happened!' Mitchie squeals at me as she slides into the seat next to me at the breakfast table.

"What?" I reply monotonously. I really don't give a shit about my girlfriend's vacuous gossip right now.

"Okay, so Caitlyn was in our cabin when I went to sleep last night, but when I woke up this morning, her bed was empty! And like two minutes later she walks in wearing nothing but her underwear and a boy's t-shirt. And she wouldn't tell me where she was or who she was with, but I totally know it was Nate because I saw him wearing the exact same shirt last week! Caitlyn is sleeping with Nate!" She whisper-screams, like it is some huge secret scandal.

I let Nate borrow that shirt off me last week.

No, Mitchie, Caitlyn wasn't with Nate, I want to say to her. It was my t-shirt. She was with me. But we're not having sex or anything. No, last night Caitlyn was looking after your trashed boyfriend because she doesn't want him to go down the same fucked-up, drug-riddled path she did. How's that for gossip, huh, Mitch?

I really want to say it. But I don't. Instead I just nod my head and feign an interested hum. To make matters worse, Nate's blearily trudging over to our table. That guy has the worst timing.

"Morning." He yawns as he plops down next to Mitchie.

"Hi, Nate. Have fun last night?" Mitchie winks at him unsubtly and I roll my eyes.

"Um, I guess?" Nate shrugs, digging into his cereal.

"Oh, come on, Nate. I know all about Caitlyn. She was wearing your shirt that you performed in at Beach Jam when she came back this morning." Mitchie giggles.

Nate is no idiot. He knows it's not his shirt, but mine, that he was wearing at Beach Jam. And 'coming back this morning' implied Caitlyn had not slept in her own bed. There was only one conclusion left for him to draw. He chokes on his spoonful of Cheerios and looks at me accusingly across the table. I minutely shake my head in warning. _Please just go along with it,_ I beg him telepathically.

"Oh, yeah, um, right. Ha ha ha, you caught me!" Nate laughs robotically, still glaring at me.

_Thank you,_ I mouth to him in relief. He just gives me a confused pointed glance, then jerks his head at Mitchie, who luckily doesn't notice the exchange as she's waving to Peggy and Lola, who just entered the mess hall. _I'll explain later,_ I mouth again, finishing just as Mitchie turns to rejoin the conversation and Jason arrives at the table.

"Hey guys, whatcha talking about?" Jason greets us cheerily, way too cheerily for this time in the morning.

"Just the sexual altercations between a certain producing camper and a famous camp instructor last night." Mitchie winks at Nate again, who smiles uncomfortably.

"Oh, you mean Caitlyn and Shane?" Jason inputs casually. Crap. Shut up, shut up, shut up, Jason!

"No, dude, Caitlyn and me." Nate jumps in quickly to cover my ass.

"But… you were playing scrabble with me until really late last night! Besides, I saw Caitlyn coming out of Shane's cabin this morning." Jason shrugs before taking a bite out of his toast.

Mitchie finally catches on, and turns to look at me with bemusement. "Shane?" She mutters grimly.

"What?" I mumble. I figure it's probably better to play it dumb until the time really calls for it. I'm not in the mood to fight today, and I still have a killer headache.

"Can I talk to you outside for a second?" She asks, her teeth clenched.

I nod grudgingly and stand with her, hearing a thump as I turn my back on the table, followed by a screeching "Ow! Nate! What'd I do?"

Once we get outside, Mitchie turns on me fiercely. "Do you want to explain to me why Jason saw Caitlyn coming out of your cabin this morning?" She snaps.

"Not really." I scowl. And that was the truth. Mitchie wouldn't understand anyway.

"Fine! I guess I'll just go ask my so-called best friend what she's doing with MY boyfriend in the middle of the night!" Mitchie shrieks, turning in the direction of the cabins.

I don't want Caitlyn to get involved in Mitchie's tirade, especially when she had done nothing wrong. "Wait," I sigh, grabbing Mitchie by the arm. "We were just talking."

"Without your clothes on?" Mitchie's voice increase in pitch, and she's shaking now.

"No! Mitchie, I got sick and puked on both of us, so I let her borrow my t-shirt. It's no big deal!" I try and smile encouragingly.

"That still doesn't explain why she had to wait 'til morning to come back to our cabin!" Great, now she's got tears in her eyes. How many freakin' girls are going to cry in front of me today?

"Look, Mitchie, it's kind of personal, okay? This is between me and Caitlyn!" I try to explain to her.

"I'm your god damn girlfriend! What is it that you can share with her but not with me?" Mitchie screams.

"It's none of your business, Mitchie!" I scream back.

"Oh, but it's Caitlyn's business?" Mitchie stomps her foot.

"Yes! You wouldn't understand!" I throw my hands in the air in frustration.

"And Caitlyn can? You don't even think of her as your friend! She's just one of my friends to you!" Mitchie yells.

"No, she's not! Stop acting like you know so much about me, because you don't!" I retaliate.

That's done it. Mitchie's crying now. Fan-fucking-tastic. "I thought I knew you!" She wails. "I definitely knew the Shane Gray I met here a year ago. What happened to him?"

"I don't know, I don't care!" I cross my arms across my chest and glare at her.

"Well, that Shane is the one I fell in love with, so if you're not him, then I just don't think I can do this, us, anymore." Mitchie buries her face in her hands.

"Wait… you're breaking up with me?" I take a step back.

"That's certainly what it sounds like, doesn't it?" Mitchie snaps, glaring up at me spitefully before she turns on her heel and marches off towards the cabins. "Come and talk to me when you decide if my Shane is the one you want to be, and what you can share with Caitlyn you can share with me too."

"Like that's going to happen!" I mutter under my breath.

I know I should feel bad about getting dumped. I know I should feel sorry for the poor girl who did the dumping.

But I don't. I feel relieved. One less person in my life to put pressure on me.

I know I loved Mitchie at one point in my life, but it's no secret that we'd been drifting apart long before we came back to Camp Rock. We relied on convenience to keep us together, but I think we both knew that wouldn't last forever. And to be honest, I'm pretty sure she's relieved we're over now as well. She's finally gotten out of this toxic relationship. Me and my cynicism don't have to hold her back anymore. She's free to be her own person now, not just 'Shane Gray's girlfriend'.

"You can share it with her if you want, Shane. I don't think she'll judge you." I hear a small voice pipe up behind me.

I spin around and Caitlyn leans back before I can hit her with my flailing arms. She grimaces at me before looking after Mitchie, her hands clenched in tight fists.

"Are you kidding me? Of course she will!" I say incredulously. "Anyway, she already thinks that there's something going on between us now. Knowing that you can relate to me more than she can will drive her nuts. This is probably for the best."

"Maybe. But if you do, You can tell her about why I want to help you, too. I don't mind." Caitlyn sighs, turning to walk away from the mess hall and down towards the lake.

I consider just ignoring her and going back inside to finish my breakfast, but I figure I might as well give her some sort of thanks for saving me from choking on my own stomach contents last night. Oh, and the fact she's helped me realise that I don't have to care what everyone else thinks, with just a few small words. Yep, it seems like I definitely owe her big time.

"I wouldn't do that to you. Besides, I like knowing something about you that no one else does. Makes me feel special." I fall in step beside Caitlyn and nudge her elbow kindly.

"You are special." Caitlyn stops to smile at me, and I know she's not teasing me or being sarcastic.

I return her smile, but shake my head. "No, I'm not."

"Dammit, Shane, yes you are! How can you not believe that?" Caitlyn huffs, and continues walking.

"How can you believe that I am? I'm just a regular person! There's nothing extraordinary about me!" I exclaim, catching up to her.

"I bet some Connect 3 fangirls would disagree." Caitlyn giggles.

"They have no idea who I really am. All they see is what I'm told to be." I kick at a rock in my path.

"It doesn't have to be like that, though." Caitlyn whispers, lightly taking my hand in hers. The feeling is oddly comforting.

"What choice do I have?" I murmur, linking my fingers in between hers, enjoying the connection.

"You always have a choice, Shane. You just have to make sure you make the right one. And if you make the wrong choice, you just have to make sure you learn from it. I did." Caitlyn reaches the edge of the lake and ceases her movement.

I wait for her to keep talking, but she doesn't. She just gazes out across the rippling water, wind whipping at her hair, creating a curly halo around her emotionally masked face. She shakes her head to try and get it out of her eyes, but fails dismally. I chuckle at the sight, tenderly reaching out to tuck a few stray strands behind her ear. She looks at me, but I can tell from the vacancy of her eyes that she's not fully looking at me. She's obviously thinking deeply, probably of something that I could never comprehend. But I try anyway.

"And what did you learn?" I bring her back to earth with my question.

"That there are other way to escape monotony." A sly grin crosses her face. "C'mon."

She grabs my hand tighter and takes off at a run along the beach, dragging me in her wake.

* * *

_Like it so far? Everyone's lovely and angsty :)  
__**Reviews **are muchly appreciated._


	4. Wuthering Heights

"Caitlyn!" I gasp. "How much further?"

"All the way to the top!" comes her chipper response.

I groan and pull myself up the rocky face a little further. "Are you sure this is safe?"

"Pssh, no!" Caitlyn yells back down to me. She's reached the top of the rock now, and is beckoning to me. "Come on, you have to get to the top to see what I mean,"

"Fine!" I grunt, hoisting myself up until I'm nearly at her feet. She reaches down for my hand and in one swift movement she has pulled me up beside her.

"Shit, Caitlyn, why the hell did I just do that?" I grumble, dusting myself off.

"Look," she replies in a soft voice, and I turn to see what she means.

If I had to describe the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, I wouldn't be able to. Words can only say so much. You have to actually see what I'm seeing; otherwise you just can't comprehend the majesty of it. The forest in every shade of green surrounding Camp Rock seems to stretch out for miles; I can make out tiny strips of roads zigzagging in and out of plain view. The lake shimmers in the sunlight, sending dazzling sparkles off of every ripple. The pool of glitter seems just inches away from my feet, but in reality it is actually meters down the precipice I'm standing on. The camp itself that I can see is nothing but an assortment of drab, square buildings that seem so out of place in this grandiose environment.

Caitlyn stares at me expectantly. "I told you it would be worth it,"

I just flash a smile at her, unable to take my eyes of the scenery that unfolds around me. The faint breeze blows Caitlyn's hair backwards, and I catch a whiff of her scent in the air. She smells like fruit shampoo and chamomile.

"Is it true, what Mitchie said before?" she interrupts my wonder with an out of place question.

"About what?"

"About me not being more than just her friend to you?" Caitlyn bits her lip hesitantly.

I'm about to lie, but somehow I know that she would be able to see right through it. So I heave a sigh and respond. "Yeah, pretty much,"

"Well, you were never really more than Mitchie's boyfriend to me either, so I guess we're square," she chuckles.

"But we're friends now, right?" I grin. "I mean, I'd hate to think for one person to know so much about me and not be my friend,"

"Oh, I think I can manage that," she teases, her eyes glinting with humour. "But the thing is, I don't really know all that much about you,"

"And I don't know much about you. Apart from, well, you know…" I trail off as I motion towards her fluffy wristband and the crimson burn poking out of the collar of her shirt.

"Maybe that tells you all you need to know," she shrugs, scowling.

I start to process an argument, thinking that there is obviously more to her that just her shitty past, and that I want to get to know her outside of our common ground. But all of a sudden her overcast expression lifts and she spreads her arms out wide, moving her legs shoulder-width apart.

"What are you doing?' I ask in bemusement.

"There's a big gust coming. Copy me, quick!" she commands, and I do so in bewilderment.

Without warning, I feel the air around my body pick up speed. My clothing is pulled tight against my body and my hair is blown backwards. I wobble precariously, but Caitlyn reaches out and hooks her fingertips into mine, steadying me. Suddenly my entire body is consumed with thick wind and I become completely weightless. The airstream tears at my every contour, but with Caitlyn's fingers interlocked with mine, I'm not afraid of falling.

Caitlyn pushes herself onto her tiptoes and leans into the air that is pressing against us, laughing uncontrollably. She looks pretty ridiculous, with her curly hair being blown in all directions and her wide smiling mouth starkly contrasting her windblown watery eyes. She glances at me and laughs louder; I guess I must look just as silly as her, if not more so. Despite myself, I throw my head up in the air and let out a howl of rapture, which only makes the both of us laugh harder than I can ever remember laughing in my entire life.

Eventually, the wind dies down, and the sensation of buoyancy dissipates. I heave a sigh in disappointment. "That was fantastic!"

"I know! I love doing that! The feeling it gives you… God, it's better than any drug," Caitlyn beams.

"Yeah," I mumble, grudgingly admitting that she's right. I've never felt that free, not even when I've gotten a fix.

"See, I told you that there are better ways to escape monotony," she grins smugly.

I feel defensive against her superiority, and attempt to bring her down a notch. "Yeah, but we can't spend the rest of our lives on top of rocks waiting for the wind to change!" I snap.

She raises a single eyebrow at me.

"I guess you're right," she shrugs, and throws herself off the edge of the rock.

"Caitlyn!" I shriek frantically, teetering over the edge and looking down at the foaming undulation Caitlyn made as she landed in the lake.

After a few incredibly long seconds, Caitlyn emerges with splash and an enormous smile on her face. "Care to join me?" she calls up to me.

"Are you fucking insane?" I scream back down at her.

"Maybe!" she laughs, rolling onto her back and floating with her arms outstretched.

"You are! You're fucking crazy!" I mutter to myself. "No, there's no way. I'm not going to. I'll kill myself!"

But looking down at Caitlyn imperturbably lolling about in the water, jumping off the rock doesn't seem like the most dangerous thing in the world. Before my brain can even register what I am doing, my body has coiled back, then hurled itself into the air.

My veins overflow with adrenalin. I am flying through the air, falling faster and faster. I open my mouth to scream in exhilaration, but only manage a weak yelp before I plunge into the cold water. For a terrifying split second, I don't know which way is up and which way is down, and I'm convinced I'm going to drown. But with a panicked kick of my legs, my head breaks the surface and I'm breathing in lungfuls of fresh air that taste like lake water.

"WHOOOO!" The scream that never left my mouth in the air breaks out of my chest. I spin around in the water to see Caitlyn swimming towards me. "That was awesome!"

She opens her mouth to say something, but the self-satisfied looks on her face tells me before she can get any words out.

"Don't say I told you so!" I laugh.

"I wasn't going to! I was going to challenge you!" she smirks.

"A challenge, huh? Bring it on, sister!" I snort.

"I bet I can hold my breath for longer than you can," she contests.

"I'll take that bet," I sling out my arm to shake her hand.

Smiling sweetly, she takes my hand in hers, and in one swift movement, she yanks me under the water. I'm enclosed in dank green darkness, and I can see Caitlyn's fuzzy outline floating in front of me. Concentrating, I focus on the air captured in my lungs, beneath my rib cage, imprisoned in my body. Gradually, I feel the compression of this incarcerated air push against my sternum, like it's trying to breakout. I let one or two bubbles escape as I begin to feel the blood pounding in my ears. Giving up, I try and kick to the surface, but Caitlyn's grip on me does not relent. I struggle against her grasp, but she only holds me tighter underneath the water. I open my mouth to yell at her and all the air that I had been holding prisoner effervesces around my face. My head is throbbing now, and multicoloured spots dance in front of my eyes. The fear of drowning that inhibited me before comes rushing back, and I don't know if I start to cry or not. I can't tell with all the crushing water swirling around me.

Then, I'm not longer being smothered by the dark liquid. I feel a cool breeze on my face and I choke on the water in my throat as Caitlyn and I emerge from the depths of the water. Gasping for air, we both weakly paddle over the bank of the lake and heave ourselves out, collapsing on our backs in the grass.

"So, how do you feel?" Caitlyn wheezes, wiping water of her face.

"I feel… amazing!" I struggle to breathe, but at the same time, the light-headed sensation I'm feeling is remarkable.

"Yeah, someone told me once that the highest feeling of euphoria you can experience is in the few moments before your oxygen deprivation becomes too much for the brain to stop functioning consciously," she shrugs.

"Really? You're trying to tell me that the best feeling in the world is suffocating?" I gape at her. "Not orgasms?"

"Apparently not. Not all the joy in life comes from human relationships, Shane," Caitlyn fiddles with her damp hair, absentmindedly staring up into the sky.

"So I should just run away and become a reclusive hermit for the rest of my life?" I scoff light-heartedly.

Caitlyn giggles. "No! I don't think happiness is real unless you can share it,"

I've never had an epiphany before, but I think this comes pretty close. No words can describe what kind of effect Caitlyn's insight is having on me. I guess I can liken it to a hot knife cutting into butter. With her every word, Caitlyn is peeling away a part of me that I thought I knew, to show me that I actually don't know it at all.

* * *

_Deep, no? Keep the **reviews **coming, they boost my self-esteem!_


	5. Metamorphosis

"One more!" Caitlyn pouts as I lay beside the lake, gasping for air. My head is still spinning from our last euphoria inducing breath-holding and I know I probably shouldn't push my luck.

But Caitlyn's eyes plead with me and I have to say yes. "Okay, fine," I roll my eyes as I prop myself up onto my elbows.

"Yes! I'm going to beat you again!" Caitlyn taunts in a sing-song voice, jumping up and brushing the dirt from her sodden shorts, then wiping her grimy hands on her damp shirt.

Sometimes I wonder what every at camp thinks when we disappear for extended periods of time. Because whenever we can spare a moment between classes or the various Jam rehearsals, I always find myself in the presence of Caitlyn. Nate, Mitchie and Jason must notice that the both of us are never around. But none of them must care, or are too uneasy being around me to try and find out why. Nate and Jason never look me in the eye anymore, and Mitchie glares at me whenever I so much as sneeze. I guess she must figure I'm still choosing Caitlyn over her. From what I hear, apart from sleeping in the same cabin, Mitchie wants nothing to do with her.

I miss talking to my friends. Not that Caitlyn isn't a blast to be around, but I want them to notice how much happier I've been, to say something about how much healthier I look. I want Nate to boss me around again, I want Jason to include me in a group hug, and I want Mitchie not to shoot daggers in my direction whenever I enter a room.

But none of them do. It kind of makes me thinks what made them my friends in the first place. We all connected over our love of music, and we all shared common interests, compatible personalities. But surely, if they really were my friends, they wouldn't shy away from me when they must know I'm going through a rough time. They wouldn't let me shut them out. They'd sit me down, try and figure what's going on in my head, plan an intervention or something, anything but do nothing, precisely what they are doing.

"Yoohoo, Shane, anyone home?" Caitlyn waves her hand in front of my face, and I jerk out of my musing.

"Huh?"

"What's the matter?" Her forehead creases in concern.

"Nothing," I shrug.

Caitlyn just gives me that look she always does when she knows I'm lying. I huff my fringe out of my eyes and roll my eyes. "Fine. I'm thinking about Nate and Jase and Mitchie."

Realisation washes over Caitlyn's face. "You miss them?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "I mean, why are they practically ignoring me?"

"Well, it might have something to do with the fact that you're practically ignoring them," Caitlyn feigns naivety.

"I'm not, though!" I try to argue, but only half-heartedly, as I realise that she's right, again. Caitlyn's always right.

"Just remember, Shane, friendship is a two-way street," Caitlyn takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. "Bet I can beat you back to the rock."

"You're on." I grin, and we both take off running.

Caitlyn and I tear through the forest, branches clawing out at us, roots emerging under out feet, trying to trip us. But we dodge them nimbly and continuing. All of a sudden Caitlyn stops stock still and I crash straight into the back of her, luckily I catch her before she face plants into the forest floor. I open my mouth to ask her why she nearly made both of us eat it, but freeze when I see the reason.

Brown is standing in front of our rock, with a highly disapproving look on his face.

"I trust that neither of you are here to climb this rock, then proceed to jump off it, just like two young people I saw not long ago?" He scowls.

I gulp and glance at Caitlyn, who surprisingly seems unfazed. "Of course not, Uncle Brown!" I laugh uncomfortably.

"I see. So why are you both soaking wet?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Freak storm?" Caitlyn pipes up.

I try to cover my laugh as cough, but unfortunately Brown noticed and glared at me.

"This is a serious issue, Shane, as an instructor at my camp, as well as a former camper, you should be well of that. You, Miss Gellar, as well as my nephew here, are under my duty of care, so it is my sole responsibility to ensure your safety." Brown frowns at us. "Therefore, if you injure yourself, it falls on me. I'm obviously not willing to take any risks. Am I clear?"

I glance nervously between my uncle and Caitlyn, but all they do is share a sympathetic look before Caitlyn nods her head compliantly.

"So, we're at an understanding then. I'm willing to let this incident to go unnoticed, Caitlyn, if you promise not to anything else reckless or life-endangering for the rest of the summer, okay?" Brown smiles kindly at her, and I realise that he must know about what happened to her over the last year.

"And as for you, Shane," His expression turns sour as her faces me. "Accompanying one of your campers while she engages in such activities is hardly responsible instructor behaviour. But I'm assuming you only did it to make sure she didn't hurt herself?"

I nod emphatically, and Brown sighs tiredly. "Alright then. Go back to your cabins and get changed. You've both missed dinner while you were out here, so maybe you should see Connie about getting something to eat."

Caitlyn and I just nod meekly and follow Brown back to camp. I take Caitlyn's hand when Brown isn't looking, and she gives it a reassuring squeeze, before dropping it as Brown turns back to wave us off to our respective cabins.

"Let's get changed and then go ask Connie for some food together," Caitlyn suggests once Brown has walked away.

"After you, m'lady!" I grin, ushering her into her cabin, and hesitantly following, praying that Mitchie was still at dinner.

Yeah, right. I should be so lucky. Not two seconds after I enter, Caitlyn has gone into the bathroom to get a towel, and I see Mitchie strolling towards the cabin, accompanied by Nate. Great. There is no way I can leave without inciting a confrontation, something that I had intentionally been avoiding. Thinking on my feet, I grab a bundle of Caitlyn's clothes and dash into the bathroom after her, slamming the door behind me. Before she can say anything, I cover her mouth with my hand and motion for her to be quiet. Her eyes widen as she hears the two voices enter the cabin.

"She's not here, either! Where ARE they?"

"I wish I knew, Mitchie. But seriously, why are you hung up on this?"

"I just want to know what is going on with my friends, but both Caitlyn and Shane have both completely shut me out! I don't know what to do!"

I meet Caitlyn's eyes guiltily. Mitchie sounds so sad and desperate.

"Maybe you should just leave it alone."

"I can't, Nate! I don't understand how you can! Shane is your best friend, how can you just let him drop off your radar?"

"Just because I don't show I'm worried about him doesn't mean I'm not. But Shane does these things sometimes. You can't just hassle him until he gives you answers. It won't work."

"Don't you think I know that? Why do you think I've been ignoring him? I want him to come to me with an explanation."

"Mitchie, that won't work either. Shane's not a mind reader! And poor Caitlyn probably hasn't done anything wrong, and is freaking out about you blowing her off."

"Yeah, right. That's why they're both avoiding me and refusing to look me in the eye! Something is going on with those two!"

"Mitchie, it's none of our business…"

"Shut up, Nate! Shut up! It is our business. These are two people who I loved more than anything, who have suddenly turned my whole summer upside-down without giving me any warning or any reason! They're being so selfish, and… and…"

Mitchie's rant dies off as the sound of her yelling is replaced with shaking sobs. I bite my lip and strain to listen for any more words, but all I can hear is the rustle of fabric and smothered moans.

"Shh, Mitch, don't cry. It's okay."

"No, Nate! It's not okay! Nothing is okay! My friends hate me, and I don't know why!"

"No one could ever hate you, Mitchie."

"And I want to hate them too, but I can't. They're still my friends, and I love them."

"You're talking about love and hate like it's some sort of decision you can make."

"Isn't it?"

"No, Mitchie, no. Love is a feeling. If we could decide who we loved, life wouldn't be nearly as amazing."

One last sniffle. "Thanks, Nate. You're pretty amazing yourself."

"Right back at you."

Silence. I don't know what's happening on the other side of that door, and I don't want to.

"Maybe we should just get changed in my cabin," I whisper, and Caitlyn nods fervently in agreement.

We slowly slip out of the bathroom window, and skirt along behind the cabins until we get to mine, trying to remain unseen. Once we get inside, I stare at Caitlyn awkwardly as she gazes at the ground. She picks at her cuticles and opens her mouth, but then closes it again.

"I didn't know Mitchie felt like that," I mumble, voicing what we're both thinking.

"Me neither. Should we… go back?" She scuffs her toe along the floor.

"I don't think so. Definitely not like this," I gesture to our still wet clothes.

"Right. And we still need to eat. We should probably talk to her tomorrow." Caitlyn shrugs, but doesn't move.

"Do you want to get changed?" I hint. I can't remember ever being this uncomfortable in Caitlyn's presence.

"Good idea," Caitlyn steps forward and takes her clothes out of my hands before disappearing into my bathroom.

I groan in frustration and wriggled out of my damp shirt, before throwing myself down on my bed, not caring about whether my sheets got wet from my jeans. All I could think about was how sad Mitchie was. I can't believe she thinks we hate her. I thought she hated us, for having our own little secret together. But no, this is just another example of Shane Gray being totally oblivious to the emotions of people around him. God, I'm such an idiot. Why didn't she just tell me? Oh right, because back then, I probably wouldn't have cared, and she knew it.

And what was that about something going on between me and Caitlyn? I mean, sure, we do spend a lot of time together, but I hate how people always assume that a guy and a girl who are very close have to be somehow romantically involved. Not that I haven't though about it, of course. Who wouldn't? Caitlyn is one of those people who blow you away the first second you get to know them. But I can't help feeling like if I tried something intimate, she'd fall to pieces. I know Caitlyn's not some fragile doll, but she's not as tough as the facade that she puts on, either.

I sigh and lift my head to look at the bathroom door, noticing Caitlyn didn't close it all the way. In fact, I could see part of the mirror and Caitlyn's reflection as she bustled about, drying herself off. Every now and then I would catch a flash of her skin that just wasn't quite right, and I felt my heart pound faster. I haven't seen Caitlyn's scars since she showed them to me that first morning, and seeing them again now floods me with a whole lot of new feelings. I don't understand why she decides to hide them. They make her who she is.

And if there's anything Caitlyn has taught me this summer, it's that I shouldn't worry about not getting what I want. I should be worried about the consequences if I don't even try.

So I slowly get up and pad over to the door, the gap getting closer and closer. I reached the open door and gaze in just as Caitlyn wraps her towel around her torso.

As if sensing me watching her, Caitlyn spins round to meet my eyes apprehensively, clutching the towel to her chest. "What?"

I don't say anything. I just take another step into the bathroom and look at the tiny piece of fabric that disguises the proof of all Caitlyn's mistakes.

"Fuck, Shane, what?" Caitlyn backs up against the sink and glares at me.

I reach out and delicately touch the ribbing of the towel, lifting it up to reveal a fraction of the contorted scar on her hip. "Can I touch it?" I breathe.

I hear Caitlyn inhale sharply, but I don't look at her. I can't, or I'll lose my head and either chicken out or completely ravish her. I don't think either would go down very well.

"Okay," she whispers, but doesn't move an inch.

So instead, and kneel down on the floor and slowly slide the towel up her hip, revealing more and more of the scar. I have to remind myself to breathe as I reach up and let my fingers gently linger over the shiny skin. Slowly, I move my hand further down her leg and carefully press my lips to it instead. I expect her to say something, to protest, to push me away.

But she doesn't. She stays frozen and doesn't say a word.

I breathe in her scent and kiss every piece of mutilated skin I can get to. God, she tastes better than she smells. My hand rests on the inside of her thigh and I feel her trembling underneath me. I part the curtain of the towel concealing her body and lightly run my fingers up her side, feeling the difference between her normal skin and the slippery surface of her burn. I gradually stand, my eyes drinking in every inch of her body, from her stomach to her arms still clutching the towel to her chest, to her other rectangular burn beneath her shoulder, to her tense neck, to her chin, her curvy mouth, her kinky hair and finally, her eyes. They reflect exactly how I feel.

Scared shitless.

Her hand reaches out towards me, and I take her lightly by the wrist, moving my thumb over the fissure beneath it.

"Shane," She whispers in such a voice it makes me go weak at the knees.

"Don't!" I hiss. "Caitlyn, for once in your life, please, just don't say anything."

And before she can open her mouth to protest and completely throw me off, I cup her face in both my hands and bring her lips into mine. She lets out a squeak of surprise, but doesn't try to pull away. I tentatively deepen the kiss, but when she doesn't respond I pull back, confused. She stares at me with an unrecognisable expression.

"Shane, I don't… we can't… I just… you're not…" she splutters.

"Spit it out, Caitlyn," I smile, stroking her cheek.

"This is a bad idea," she whimpers quietly. "Shane, I'm a bad idea. I'm not good for you. At all. You don't need me screwing up everything you've got going for you."

"The only thing I've got going for me is you," I step in closer, trapping her body between mine and the sink.

"Why?" Caitlyn's breath catches.

"Because you're extraordinary," I murmur, and at that she throws herself back into my arms, dropping her towel.

* * *

_Ah, romance! (best said in French accent)_

_Sorry for the long wait, I've been drowning in school and dance and music, plus this chapter is absolutely behemoth, and I wanted to get it just right.  
**Reviews** plz! Does the whole Shane/Caitlyn pairing float your boat, or are you still like NOES SMITCHIE 4EVAH?_


	6. To Kill A Mockingbird

The next day, I'm irritable, jumpy and terribly lonely. I don't know if Caitlyn's been avoiding me, or if it's just a coincidence she wasn't scheduled to be in any of my classes today. I'm going crazy not being able to see her, to touch her, to hear her tingling voice.

I want to ask Mitchie were she is, but I also don't want to push our newly established friendship. I'd swallowed my pride this morning to go and talk to her while Caitlyn was at singing practice.

"Hey," I slid into the empty gap next to Mitchie on the piano stool.

I felt her start beside me, but she didn't take her fingers off the keys or her eyes off the music in front of her. "Yes?" She responded icily.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," I mumbled, picking at a clump of fabric on the knee of my jeans.

The sound coming from the piano suddenly stopped, and she turned to gape at me. "What did you say?"

"I said…"

"No, I mean, I know what you said, but why now? Why are you sorry now?"

I twisted my mouth into a grim smile. "I guess that I've just been having a sort of mid-life crisis,"

"You're nineteen, Shane.," Mitchie sniggered. "Hardly mid-life!"

"I know, but… have you ever had that feeling that there's got to be more to experience in life than just breathing in and out?" I don't look up to see her surprised face.

"Yeah. Like you feel how you should have done something important with your life by now," Mitchie hummed.

My head jerked up to stare at her in surprise instead. "Exactly!"

We both were silent while we contemplated what the other had said.

"So, I didn't do anything… wrong?" Mitchie whispered as her bottom lip quivered.

"What? No, Mitchie, you didn't do anything. I was just so caught up in my own freakin' issues I forgot about everyone else's feelings," I sighed.

"Except Caitlyn's."

"Huh?"

"Caitlyn? That's who you're with all the time now, isn't it?" Mitchie's tone turned bitter as the conversation started to head in the direction I'd hoped to avoid.

"Caitlyn is just going through the same shit as me, and she's helping me deal with it, okay?" I tried to comfort Mitchie without revealing too many details.

"I could have helped you deal with it." Mitchie mumbled as her voice cracked.

"No, Mitch, you couldn't have. You're too good a person to be brought down by me."

"Don't you think I could have decided that?" Mitchie bit back angrily.

"Probably," I shrugged. "But I have to take responsibility for my own actions. I want to get what I want from this life."

"And what is that?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Mitchie caressed the keys of the piano broodingly before replying "Me neither."

"So, are we good now?" I bit my lip and nervously glanced at her.

"Well, that depends on your definition of 'good'."

"Um, friends?"

"Shane, you completely screwed me over! You haven't talked to me, or your bandmates for that matter, in weeks! Am I supposed to just forget this ever happened?"

"No!"

"And then Caitlyn, my best friend, but barely your acquaintance, is suddenly the only person who can get through to you? How do you think that makes me feel?"

"It makes you feel like crap, Mitchie, I know that now, and I didn't mean for that to happen. I guess I just didn't care."

"Well, you can only not care so much before the things, and people, you do care about start to get hurt!" Mitchie pouted.

"Mitchie, I know I hurt you, and I've already apologized…"

"I know you're sorry, Shane, really I do. But I just, I just don't know if I can trust you anymore."

"I don't think you can either. I don't deserve it. But if you want to, I would love to try and earn it back," I gave her an earnest smile and hoped that she can see I was being sincere.

Micthie bit her lip and met my gaze. "Fine. You're on thin ice, Mister."

That cracked a smile out of me. "Yes ma'am!"

"Can I just ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Were you still with me when you fell for Caitlyn?"

I choked on my own saliva. "What?" I coughed.

"You heard me." Mitchie's expression wasn't cold, or upset, or vicious. It was just curious.

"No, Mitchie. You had already broken up with me when I…" For some reason I couldn't bring myself to voice my feelings for Caitlyn.

Mitchie's eyes clouded with tears again, but she gave me a watery smile. "It's okay, Shane, really. I think we fell out of love a long time ago. And Caitlyn is a great girl."

"I know. I'm sorry, I wish I could love you back if that's what it takes to make you happy. But I can't." I sigh and run my hand through my hair uncomfortably.

"And I know that, but you underestimate me, Shane Gray. I am happy. I just want what's best for you. Same with Nate and Jason."

I chuckle at the thought of my two bandmates and best friends. "And are they happy?"

"Well, Jason is pretty much a given. And Nate… yeah, Nate's happy too. We're just one big screwed-up but happy family. And we love you, Shane."

I tried to fight the lump growing in my throat. "Thanks, Mitchie. I mean it. And just so you know, I love you guys too," I ruffled her hair as I stood to leave.

"Hey, Shane?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope you find what you're looking for."

So with Mitchie's words still ringing in my ears, I emerge out of the woods and onto the boardwalk, scanning for any other sign of life. Well, one individual sign of life in particular. And there she is.

Caitlyn is sitting on the edge of the boardwalk, her knees hunched up to her stomach and encased in her goose-pimpled arms. Her eyes light up when she sees me walking towards her. "There you are! I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up!"

"Why would you think that?" My eyebrows furrow together as I help her to her feet.

"Never mind," She shakes her head and looks to the ground as she curls her toes.

"No, tell me why!" I bend my knees slightly and put my face under hers to look into her eyes, making her giggle.

"Well, it's not as if the people in my life I depend on always stick around when I get to be too much trouble for them," she shrugs nonchalantly, but I know that she's hurting inside.

"Don't worry, I think I can handle any trouble you can dish out. You can't get rid of me that easy," I smile, lightly running my hands up her arms, coming to a halt on her shoulders.

She smiles delightedly and looks up with me with a new sense of exhilaration at my words, snaking her arms around my waist. "So, you ready to go swimming?"

"But… Brown said we couldn't!" I look at her incredulously.

"Brown said we couldn't jump off the rock anymore. He didn't say anything about the pier," she grins cheekily.

"Last one in is a rotten egg!' I grab her shoulders and push her behind me, taking off at a sprint along the boardwalk.

I hear her laughter peal behind me, getter closer and closer. Suddenly I'm jerked backwards sharply and my eyes are covered by something pink that smells faintly of fruit shampoo and chamomile.

"Oh, you'll pay for that!" I yell after Caitlyn, tossing aside her t-shirt and giving chase, but discovering quickly that she's much too fast for me. She always is.

Caitlyn runs shrieking down the pier, kicking off her shorts as she goes. I pull my shirt over my head and follow her, still pretending like I can catch her. I laugh as she dives in, and I cannonball after her. These are the few seconds I love most. Just the green murk before your eyes, the suspending feeling of being weightless and the sound of nothing but the water closing in around you. You can almost pretend that there isn't even a world outside of you. But there is, and the need for air always drives you to face it.

I emerge from the water and flip my hair out of my eyes to look around for Caitlyn's smiling face, but I can't see any sign of her apart from the widening ripples she left from her dive. Maybe she started to hold her breath without waiting for me? But why would she do that? We always do that together so she can laugh at me when she wins. Each time we go a little further; hold our breaths a little longer. But some how she always manages to outlast me, sometimes not emerging until a minute after I break the surface, spluttering and exhausted.

I paddle myself in a circle, trying to spot a flicker in the water, a splash of a foot or a hand, anything to indicate where she is.

Then I see it. I have to do a double take. It's a pale, fleshy island of person face down in the water. A person who's not moving.

Caitlyn.

No. My hearts pounds faster as I swim over to her impossibly slowly, the water frothing all around me.

No, no, no. My stomach drops as I pull her face out of the water and realise there is something not quite right about the alignment of her neck.

No, no, no, no, no! My muscles burn as I drag her limp form over to the bank and heave her out of the lake.

No, please, this can't be happening. I hope that this is some kind of sick prank she's pulling, but deep down I know Caitlyn would never joke about something like this. I scream her name over and over, but her eyes aren't opening. I shake her shoulders, but she doesn't respond. I press my mouth over hers, trying to breathe life into her unmoving body.

Nothing. It's no good. She's not going to wake up.

* * *

_Please don't hate me. **Review?**_


	7. Atonement

I lie face down in my bed, trying to ignore the sunshine that seems to push through the overcast sky and creep into my window to meagrely try and bring light into my day. I hate the sun almost as much as I love it. I hate it for having to rise over a world without Caitlyn. I love it for making my world seem a little less dark.

I hear someone walking up to my cabin, and I toss my sheets over my head just as the door swings open.

"Fuck off!" I shout into my pillow that still smells a little bit sweet, but tangy at the same time. That stills smells a little bit like her.

"Shane, the limo's here." I hear Nate call softly.

"I said, fuck off!" I scream, bunching my body up into a ball.

"Shane, come on, we've got to go," Mitchie's weak voice trembles.

"Are you fucking deaf? Just leave me alone!" My shriek is muffled in my delicious pillow.

I hear them all muttering together in worried tones, and roll my eyes. I think about saying something obnoxious, letting them know that I know they're talking about me. Everyone is fucking talking about me like I'm not even there. Like I just fade into the background because she isn't here to illuminate me anymore. And I bet if I have to leave, I'll disappear completely.

Brown had given a speech to all the campers about why they were all going home early. How tragic it was that a fellow camper, musician, and friend, had fatally broken her neck by diving in too deep off the pier. How it was such a great loss, blah blah blah. It's bullshit; none of those people knew Caitlyn like I did. They didn't lose her like I did. They don't know shit about loss. When you lose something you love more than yourself, then come and talk to me about real goddamn loss.

"I can't, I'd say the wrong thing. No, Jason, you'd only screw it up worse than I would. C'mon, we have to try and at least get him out of bed," Nate's tired voice was clear above Mitchie and Jason's nervous whispering. I hear a miserable sigh, and light footsteps coming towards me, followed by my mattress sinking as someone sat down next to my tightly curled body.

"Shane, we're not going to make it to the funeral if we don't leave soon," Mitchie says wearily.

"I don't care," I reply monotonously.

"Shane, please, you haven't left your bed since… it happened," Mitchie caught herself before she could say something like '_since_ _Caitlyn died in front of your very eyes_.'

"I. Don't. Care!" I bite back, angrier now.

"Shane, please, you need to get up, get out of here and get some help. Brown said…"

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE WHAT BROWN SAID, MITCHIE!" I snap, rolling over and glaring at her. "What is so freakin' hard to comprehend about the fact that _I don't care?_"

"Well, I do care, Shane. I care about Caitlyn and I care about you," Mitchie's exhausted voice has the scratchy, cracked sound of someone who has no tears left to cry.

I look closely at her red and puffy eyes that are filled with worry. Quickly, I glance towards Nate, who's in the corner of my cabin chewing on his nails, looking at me with the same red eyes and worried expression, mirrored by Jason standing with his arms folded across his chest in the doorway. They're all worried about me. They all should be grieving in their own way, trying to get closure and move on. But instead they're sitting here, putting my needs ahead of theirs, actually worrying about me, caring about me.

Numbly accepting this in a state of dumbfounded amazement, I roll back over and let the truth of the matter wash over me.

"I miss her so much," I moan, my voice cracking.

"The doctors said she didn't feel any pain. They said it all happened really quickly," Mitchie's voice wobbles as she lays a warm hand on my shaking back. "They said even if she had lived, the damage done to her spinal cord would have left her a quadriplegic."

Her voice breaks and I know she's thinking the same thing as me. How ironic it is. Caitlyn would rather be dead than never be able to do anything for herself again.

"Does he really need to hear this?" Nate squeaks in alarm, scrambling to stand up and making his way towards us.

"I think he does!" Mitchie bites back, and I kind of get the feeling that I know she's right, like I got with Caitlyn when she affirmed her beliefs.

Fuck, everything I do reminds me of her. Everything I hear makes me remember how she once said something relevant. Everything I see makes me wonder how Caitlyn would have perceived it.

I can't escape from her. I don't even think I want to.

"Shane, can you please just get up? For us? For her?" Nate's hand squeezes my shoulder.

I sigh and kick off my sheets, sliding my legs over the opposite side of the bed to Nate and Mitchie, sitting upright. I look back over my shoulder at them, and they give me a grateful smile, which I try to return, but I just can't make my facial muscles move. So instead I sigh and make my way over to my wardrobe, looking for clean clothes to get changed into.

"I'm really sorry, guys," I mumble as I pull on some black jeans.

"For what?" Mitchie wrinkled her nose.

"Everything. For letting you freak out about me, making you stay here to watch over me when I'm just being ridiculous," I shake my head bitterly.

"Don't be sorry, Shane, you didn't make us do anything. We know Caitlyn meant a lot to you," Nate runs a hand through his curls

"And you're not being ridiculous," Mitchie adds. "You have every right to be sad. We know you think she was the most perfect girl in the world…"

"No," I interrupt.

"What?" Nate and Mitchie exclaim in confusion together.

"Caitlyn wasn't perfect," I explain. "Far from it. Just like I'm not perfect. But we were perfect for each other," I sigh as I pull my dirty, smelly shirt over my head and scrounge around for a new one.

I see them nod and exchange glances out of the corner of my eye, but all my attention is focused on the t-shirt in my hands once I see which one it is. The one Nate borrowed for Beach Jam. The one Mitchie thought was his. The one that Caitlyn wore on the morning she turned my life around.

Mitchie and Nate must have seen me stiffen, because they're at my side at an instant. Nate opens his mouth, presumably to ask what my problem is, but then he sees the t-shirt, and understands. He gently pries it from my grasp as I retreat from it as far as possible. My back hits the wall on the opposite side of the room and I have to brace myself to keep from sliding to the floor.

"Shane?" Mitchie whispers tentatively, reaching out and tough my arm. I pull away roughly.

"Why did she have to die? Why? Fuck, just tell me why!" I push myself forwards and turn away from my friends, my head spinning.

I'm not sad anymore. I'm angry. I'm angry at Caitlyn. I'm angry at myself. But most of all I'm angry at whatever higher power there is that decided to take Caitlyn; eclectic, wonderful, imperfect, just-as-fucked-up-as-I-am Caitlyn; away from me, especially when I needed her most.

I feel a sharp crack in my knuckles as my fist hits the wall before I even realise I've taken a swing. But I don't care. I pound against the plaster again and again, screaming my lungs out.

"Stop, Shane, stop it!" Mitchie pleads with me, grabbing at my arm, tears pouring down her cheeks.

"Get out! Get the fuck out!" I roar, turning on her menacingly.

Nate pulls her away from me in fright, and I see the panic and grief in both of their eyes, which only makes me hate myself more.

Howling, I go around my cabin, seizing anything that isn't welded down and smashing it to the floor. I flip my bed frame and kick at the mattress. I smash the mirror in the bathroom into a thousand tiny pieces. I grab my guitar from the corner and slam it into the ground, over and over, until there's nothing left but splinters and strings.

All of a sudden, two strong arms wrap around me from behind, forcing me to release the mangled head of my former guitar and lowering me gently to the ground as I collapse in anguish.

"Shane, you need to calm down," Jason states as he pulls me into a tight hug, letting me cry into his favourite shirt.

I can't breathe. The amount of air I'm inhaling is barely the amount that I'm exhaling in screams. I can feel the circulation to my brain being cut off. Spots dance in front of my eyes, and I begin to feel dizzy, nauseous, relieved. Maybe if I asphyxiate and die I can see Caitlyn again.

But just as I feel like I'm going to pass out, I feel the blood start flowing through my veins, my head clears and I can breathe again. I've stopped crying.

"I think you're going to be okay," Jason pats me on the back encouragingly.

"No, Jase, I'm not going to be okay! Nothing is ever going to be okay again! You don't get it, I swear to God Caitlyn was the only thing holding me together. Without her, my life is just… ordinary!" I choke through my closed throat.

"Maybe just ordinary is enough," Jason says, in that same casual tone he always says the things of most importance in.

"I guess," I mumble. "I just didn't expect not being able to kiss her ever again. Not being able to tell her how much I care for her. I'm going crazy just thinking about how I'm never going to see her again!"

"So don't think about it," Jason pronounces matter-of-factly.

"It's not that fucking easy! I feel like I've just lost absolutely everything," I whimper.

"You haven't. You've got me, and Nate, and Mitch. We're in this together," Jason mumbled gently.

"No, we're not. You guys loved Caitlyn, I know, but not like me. Nobody could ever love her like me. And I never told her that," I bury my face into Jason's shoulder as more sobs wrack my body.

"I think she knew."

"How do you know?"

"Caitlyn was pretty smart. She knew a lot," Jason shrugs. "And I think she felt the same about you,"

"You think so?" I look up and meet his eyes desperately.

"I know so. I'm not just a pretty face," Jason smiles tentatively, and heaves a sigh of relief when I give a teary chuckle. "Do you even want to go to the funeral?"

I pause and bite my lip as I contemplate. "Yeah, I want to say goodbye properly."

"We'd better go then," Jason releases me and climbs to his feet before helping me to my own. After a pause, he adds on "And you don't have to think of it as goodbye, you know?"

"Then what is it?" I furrow my brow in uncertainty, pulling on a jersey.

"I dunno, I see funerals as more of a 'see ya later' kind of thing," Jason's raw, simple outlook was surprisingly refreshing.

He stumbles back in surprise as I fling my arms around his shoulders, but he returns my hug with a chuckle.

"Jason…" I mumble, close to tears again.

"You're welcome," he smiles. "C'mon, let's get out of here,"

"But… look at this place! Brown is going to fucking flip!" I panic, gesturing wildly to the carnage surrounding us.

"Shane, I think he'll understand," Jason slings an arm over my shoulder and guides me towards the door.

I push open the swinging door and step out of the stuffy cabin into the fresh air. Holding the door open with one hand, I bend down and pick up my backpack that some nice soul has packed for me and left resting on the step. As I straighten, I hear a stifled moan and guiltily look up to see Nate holding Mitchie's shaking body tightly to his chest, clamping her head beneath his chin and stroking her hair, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Like maybe if he opens them again it would all turn out to be a bad dream.

I see the frustration and sorrow in his eyes as he opens them to look at me, but they suddenly change to relieved when he sees me standing in the open doorway. He gives me a grateful smile, and nods in my direction to Mitchie. She turns to face me as well, and Nate's relief is reflected in her grief-stricken face. As if an oppressive weight had suddenly been lifted, Nate takes Mitchie's hand and leads her into the limo waiting in front of my cabin. Before following them, Jason turns to me.

"Coming?" He asks unsurely.

"Give me just one more second," I plead, and he nods and gets into the limo after Nate and Mitchie.

I stare around at the empty camp. There are still tell-tale signs that it was vacated only a short time ago. A sticky half-dry paintbrush left discarded on the grass. A forgotten beach towel flapping in the wind. The smell of Connie's cooking still hanging in the air. The whole place still buzzed with life even with nobody there. How could I possibly have hated somewhere like this?

I might come back one day. I might not. I don't know yet.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder, and a tiny bag of white powder falls out of the front pocket. Biting my lip, I pick it up and stare at it. Life without Caitlyn just seems so hard to fathom, and I really need something to take the edge off the pain.

I smile and pinch the edges of the bags, stepping forward and carefully letting the minuscule crystals fall to the ground as the door of my cabin swings shut behind me.

Caitlyn wouldn't have wanted that for me. Hell, she'd probably kick my ass for even thinking about it. I could practically hear her voice in my ear, telling me something deep and meaningful, with a sarcastic quip on the end about how proud she was that she had finally gotten through to me. I breathed in the atmosphere of wilderness and unpredictability around me, the last chance I would get before heading back to the monotony of the city and my job and doing the same damn thing day after day.

But then the sun broke through the clouds, littering individual streams of light that shimmered as they extended across the sky and into the horizon. They illuminated tree branches and filled the air with a sudden life. My life. This is my life. It isn't spectacular. It isn't something that I would marvel every moment in. It is just ordinary.

But it is enough.

* * *

_The End._

_Special thanks must go to __LittleRedOne__ and __my untold fairy-tale__ for being so amazingly supportive from the very beginning. _

_**Review**__ please!_


End file.
